The Beaten Track
by Allthequirkythings
Summary: The next few days wouldn't prove any better, Lacy knew inside herself. It'd be a miracle if she could keep up with the curriculum at school, deal with all the preppy kids, and overcome her jet-lag. Maybe she could just blink and try to fall asleep.


**Haha. I havn't been writing for Prince of Tennis for a while, but I've found inspiration: lalalalalaaah! Please review: even and_ especially_ if you don't like it. Feel free to PM me for anything, and don't bother reading my other stories!I promise I've gotten better at writing!**

**And thumbs up for the Doctor Who reference. :)**

* * *

_"Where to next?"_

_Lacy adjusted the sleeves of her pinstripe blazer and looked up at her present companion with bright, blazing eyes. _

_"Only wherever the TARDIS takes us," she beamed. Her hair was up in a messy black ponytail, and the look lifted her entire face up. "Danger at every turn, adventure as wide as the sky." She gave a loud laugh. "__The universe is ours to explore, isn't it?"_

_He smiled and took her hand. _

_"Alons-y."_

* * *

Lacy's mother had spent her whole life in Forrester, New Mexico, where Mrs. Inoue joked life had to slow down every once in a while just to take a breather, which wasn't actually too far from the truth. The sun had long since over-baked the earth, leaving mesas, mountains, and sleepy towns around the Rio Grande river.

Whenever lightening struck their little town, the power would die and her mother would bring out her lifelong stash of emergency tea candles. It was and had been a secluded little town ever since the first home had been built in hope to mine for silver. Then, when none was found, it was kept open for no other obvious reason except that there would be no benefit in ripping down the whole town that was already built.

Travel north from Forrester and you'd hit Durango, home of the mountain bikers, giant ski mountains, and soccer moms. Travel far enough east and you'd be on Route 66 on the way to Santa Monica or, if you had a craving for deep-dish pizza, Chicago. West and there was the Canyon de Chelly national monument in ThisplaceinArizona, Arizona. Finally, go down far enough and you'd find yourself south of the border with giant rats and aguas frescas.

It was Lacy's favorite place in the world, though she'd only ever known two places: Forrester, and...

...hell.

Also known as Japan.

Not that she was bitter about having to visit it _every year_, thanks to her mother and her present boyfriend, who decided annual visits to her grandmother was just as good or even better than a vacation to boring old Russia, or Cambodia, or, this year, Switzerland.

"Girls your age would be overly eager to travel around the world," her mother babbled over her cooking one evening when Lacy asked if she could go, just this once, please, on vacation with them.

And all over the world?

Who was the woman who went to Germany, France, Spain, and Turkey in _one summer? _

"You'll have so much fun!" she continued, bringing up her stirring spoon and licking the salt off. "New hobbies..."

_Lick. _

"New start..."

_Lick. _

"New friends," Mrs. Inoue looked up above her steaming skillet and winked.

"New _boys_..."

Lacy shivered. No girl should have to talk about boys with their mothers: especially one who wore her wedding ring on dates.

"Your classes start two days after you arrive," her mother chattered on, not flinching as the stove crackled when she swept in chopped onions. "And Suzuki-senpai says all the students are just so _excited_ to have you join them. Isn't that nice?"

No, Mother, it _wasn't _nice.

Wasn't it bad enough that she lived alone in Grandma Jin's apartment for five weeks but now had to attend classes at the private school nearby too with nobody she knew? Lacy could guess _exactly _how "excited" the class would be. Not even mentioning her jet-lag.

But instead of saying that and complaining like a baby, she nodded.

It would've been better if Grandma Jin were there. Granny might as well have been the one person who still cared about her after The Big Bang II happened.

Heck, Granny Jin was the one who helped her make up the name. And get Lacy over it.

But now, Granny was on a soul trip to rural Mongolia to spread the gospel and maybe even learn a few valuable life lessons, like how to shear a sheep, or carry a goat, or milk a camel.

It seemed so much like Grandma Jin anyway, going on this long-overdue retirement vacation to a tiny village in the base of the Ulaan Taiga mountains on the border of Mother Russia. But it hardly compared to her many adventures she'd taken on her younger years.

Granny's apartment had long-since been transformed into a disorganized mass of souvenirs, pictures, and trinkets from her many places around the world. The line from where the wall met the hardwood floor did not exist.

Rows of objects, from a jar of soft sand from Jamaica to a small chunk of scarlet coral from the Great Barrier Reef lined the halls, leading like a walkway through her life. Hung above the kitchen sink dangled bunches of grass and dried flowers. The bathroom sported dozens of seashells lines against the window above an Indian braid rug. All the walls were pasted top to bottom in all sorts of pictures, splayed in dizzying array wherever you turned.

The million different objects held a million different stories which Grandma Jin often reflected on with a wispy expression.

Then, every time without fail, she'd turn to Lacy and ask why she was wasting all her young years in one place, which she promptly responded to with saying there simply weren't enough planes in the world, though the word Lacy actually wanted to say was money.

When Lacy finally dragged her suitcase into the familiar apartment, she sighed deeply. It was a sight to sore eyes. Even though it was initially dizzying, it was the perfect embodiment of her grandmother: cluttered in an organized way, overwhelming in positive energy, and one look and the whole world seemed together.

She almost collapsed right there, and after that thirteen-hour plane ride with the howling baby and single mother travelling with two other kids right behind her, Lacy thought she deserved it. She hadn't even been able to focus on writing her new story, which she had promised herself to finish before getting off the plane, and she felt like such an awful, lonely loser who couldn't do crap.

_Fall down and just pass out until you're hungry_, tempted her body.

But instead, she willed herself to stumble past the two guest rooms to Granny's, maneuver around the dying hibiscus, Jim, and fall into bed finally, _finally_, after such a long day. The next few days wouldn't prove any better, Lacy knew inside herself. It'd be a miracle if she could keep up with the curriculum at school, deal with all the preppy kids, and overcome her jet-lag.

Maybe she could just blink and try to fall asleep.

* * *

It wasn't as if Atobe Keigo was asked if he wanted to be rich.

Maybe, yes, given the choice, he'd choose to be _rich_, but still it– it just wasn't exactly what people made it out to be.

People thought he was this pompous, arrogant, yet _irresistibly charming_ man (which he was).

But he wanted to be utterly justified to withhold such a reputation. He'd worked his butt off for the last dozen years of his life just to best a few one-uppers and live up to that title.

Atobe wasn't a pompous rich boy at heart, but everyone thought he was. Besides, with someone as handsome, intelligent, and all-around brilliant as he was, (excuse his slang) haters were gonna hate.

Living up to his well-earned position as king with the girls, on the grade curve, and, of course, tennis, was a perk of being hard-working.

His breakfast was left on a solemn tray on the long dinner table. He raised the platter and sat, setting it aside, eating the ornate dish of poached eggs with almonds on sourdough (and a sprig of rosemary with ground parsley) next to a steaming cup of perfectly steeped Earl Gray tea.

All was eerily silent save the Austrian cuckoo clock ticking away above the high-backed chairs and the constant scrape of his fork on pearly china.

His parents (minus his father, of course) and grandparents used to eat with him this early each morning, but after she joined the gardening committee with a high-end rich lady's circle, his mother left to enjoy cucumber sandwiches in the ballroom of a fancy hotel somewhere. His grandfather was often in the library with his tea, and his grandmother stopped making jokes and acted as still as the seat cushions before disappearing from the table completely.

Even his dog, Beat, padded off, preferring to lounge outside.

After finishing, Atobe left the dishes to retire to his room before school. His grandmother posed on one of the floral sofas in the sitting room. That was the problem with her: she never seemed comfortable. Nonetheless, she put down her sewing as he entered and patted his pale hand with her withered one when he bent formally to kiss her cheek.

"Grandmother," Keigo nodded stiffly, wondering why his formerly free-as-an-eagle grandma was so stiff nowadays.

"Keigo," Aika sniffed curtly, wondering why her formerly work-hard-play-hard grandpuppy was so much like a stick nowadays.

He took brisk steps up the stairs, tsk-ing once again at the hideous floral wallpaper in the hallway (it looked like a shower curtain, for goodness sake!) before retreating into the privacy of his room, where the maid was just finishing up.

Atobe strolled to the window and gazed out at the city.

The Atobe mansion was surrounded by mediocre apartment buildings: an awful sight, really. Sometimes, those _people _would stick their heads from their windows and smoke–_ smoke_.

_Really_.

Today, out on a balcony stood a woman hanging up her wet clothes, a little boy dropping something that looked like marbles two stories down onto taxis, and a girl, dark hair flying, sticking herself out of her window, turning her head and staring at his mansion like a tourist might eye a splendid piece of artwork.

Which he might as well be.

Soon came: "Your limo is waiting outside, sir." His butler bowed at the open door of his bedroom.

Atobe nodded, though still not stirring from his position from the window until the girl disappeared, the woman took her basket, and the boy threw his last marble before ducking inside.

Tennis practice didn't really start until he arrived anyway. But for some reason, the rest of the Regulars seemed perfectly content with attending both sessions each and every day, though he had no idea why, when they could just practice on their own private–

Oh, right.

* * *

_Beeeeep. Beeeeep. Beeeeep. _

Lacy sincerely hoped it wasn't morning.

_Beeeeep. Beeeeep. Beeeeep._

Maybe– maybe she was hallucinating. Yes. That was it.

Beeeeep. Beeeeep. Beeeeep. Beeeeep.

Okay. Not hallucinating.

Beeeeep. Beeeeep. Beeeeep. Beeeeep. Beeeeep.

She sighed and hit a button on her watch, rolling over again.

BEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBEEPBE EP.

Groaning, Lacy sat up and shoved the hairs stuck on her face behind her ear. She squinted at her watch.

_6:30. _

_Six_ stinking _thirty. _

Prepared to go back to sleep, Lacy slumped back against the soft pillows that felt like soft, soft boats that would sweep her off and dream, because she was having _such _a nice dream...and it was about Doctor Who...

* * *

Keigo's father's mother had no idea why her son turned out so..._serious_. Even from a young age, when the other children played beigoma outside, all Isao wanted to do was watch _his _father write reports and do taxes. Aika-sama could not begin to understand the strangeness of her son.

Perhaps it was a family trait from the Atobe side of the family.

But Isao had a sister...and she was normal. Or, as normal as a heart surgeon could be. Only found in the males, perhaps? That made sense: maybe some sort of genetic disorder found in y-chromosomes that made them strangely closed and idealistic all the time.

Aika had played with the thought before tucking it away as a child might do with a puzzle they couldn't figure out.

Then, when Isao married Sakura and had little baby Keigo with the tear mole on his cheek, she took it out again and turned the pieces around a bit more.

While Isao lacked the initiation to play with children his own age as a youth, young Keigo quickly climbed and dominated the entire preschool and kindergarten social pyramid.

Then in elementary school was the unspoken incident with other English children, and Japan became the Great New Beginning.

Aika observed how Keigo acted around his friends and fellow peers, and she thought it amusing, if not totally strange. Humility is something earned, she'd told him many a time before realizing he wasn't listening anymore.

Maybe someone else would get through to him someday, Aika hoped. But meanwhile, she put her puzzle away again and tried not to fret too much about it: Keigo was a good boy who was perfectly happy being himself, though heaven knew why he was being such a stiff nowadays.

* * *

Sun poured out from the windows as Lacy poured herself out of bed, unable to fall back into that dream. Her mouth tasted rancid, her whole body was cramped, and she had the feeling of a mild fever that occurred whenever she overslept. Despite all that, she still woke up refreshed. After flushing the taste out of her mouth and unpacking all her clothes into the empty dresser, Lacy went out to find something to fill the yawning gap in her stomach.

The fridge light flickered on. A drawer filled with fresh fruits and vegetables. A shelf dedicated entirely to nuts. Cartons of almond and rice milk. Little white boxes of tofu for Granny Jin on the top shelf. A neat little row of eggs in the door. Lacy frowned. Even though she knew Grandma ate a fairly healthy semi-vegan diet, this was one of the downs of living with Granny Jin in Japan: you were never full.

That and- well, that and she didn't have any friends.

She plucked out an apple from the cupboard and washed it in the sink. Outside the window stood dozens of other buildings like this one: white-washed, erect, dotted with clear windows like the one she stood at now.

Her grandmother had made a fortune on her (originally) non-profit work to preserve fast-disappearing landscapes such as Madagascar. Even just in the last few decades, she had brought a rise to her Children for God campaign touring America, reciting gospel to convince the world of the great acts to come from the next generation before buying this apartment, donating her money, and retiring permanently.

Lacy never realized how nice this part of town really was until she turned her head to one side and saw the long hedge on the edge of someone's enormous amount of property. Flinging open the windows, she poked her head out and spotted a large expanse of green grass. Craning her neck out, Lacy observed a twinkling fountain and spirals of flowering trees and well-pruned hedges. And lifting her feet off the ground, she gaped at the giant gingerbread house placed sturdily behind locked gates.

It wasn't really a gingerbread house, but thinking of it like the one she decorated the year before the last with her art class was easier than trying to control her strange, gnawing urge to constantly crunch numbers and expenses. And right now, Lacy didn't feel compelled to gape at the sheer _hugeness _of the thing and the obvious wealth of the people who lived in it.

She jerked back to avoid falling out of the window.

White lattice rooftops of frosting flowed beautifully across the roof. Pillars of white licorice strung up from the ground. Perfect, tiny, fondant people loitered in perfect tiny uniforms, walking a perfect tiny dog, or bending over perfect tiny flowers.

Not that Lacy was impressed, or anything.

But she couldn't help but feel wistful.

Because someone who lived in a house like that– who _lived _like that had to have lots of friends, right?

Lacy sighed, dropping her feet to the ground, and rested her chin in the windowsill.

And someone who lived like that had to be happy, right?

* * *

Keigo's father's mother had no idea why her son turned out so..._serious_. Even from a young age, when the other children played beigoma outside, all Isao wanted to do was watch _his _father write reports and do taxes. Aika-sama could not begin to understand the strangeness of her son.

Perhaps it was a family trait from the Atobe side of the family.

But Isao had a sister...and she was normal. Or, as normal as a gastroenterologist could be.

Only found in the males, perhaps? That made sense: maybe some sort of genetic disorder found in y-chromosomes that made them strangely closed and idealistic all the time.

Aika had played with the thought before tucking it away as a child might do with a puzzle they couldn't figure out.

Then, when Isao married Sakura and had little baby Keigo with the tear mole on his cheek, she took it out again and turned the pieces around a bit more.

While Isao lacked the initiation to play with children his own age as a youth, young Keigo quickly climbed and dominated the entire preschool and kindergarten social pyramid.

Then in elementary school was the unspoken incident with other English children, and Japan became the Great New Beginning.

Aika observed how Keigo acted around his friends and fellow peers, and she thought it amusing, if not totally strange. Humility is something earned, she'd told him many a time before realizing he wasn't listening anymore.

Maybe someone else would get through to him someday, Aika hoped. But meanwhile, she put it away again and tried not to fret too much about it: Keigo was a good boy who was perfectly happy being himself, though heaven knew why he was being such a stiff nowadays.

* * *

**_Fin._**

**I hope you enjoyed this, and if you didn't, meh. Have a nice day!**


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